


Detroit: Become Christmas Carol (Real F***in' Original...)

by Disassembled_Deviant



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas, Connor Deserves Happiness, Don't let the fire die out!, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Gavin Reed Redemption, Gen, Holidays, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, If you know A Christmas Carol, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad Connor, Sad Hank Anderson, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Swearing, Trigger Warnings, You know this is gonna get all kinds of bad, botched surgery, or maybe just ooc, sadness all around, seriously though, so does hank, sorta - Freeform, writer does not know how to chill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-12 18:02:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16877643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Disassembled_Deviant/pseuds/Disassembled_Deviant
Summary: It's that time of year again. Even after all this time, and despite everything that has happened the past month, this time of year was the worst. This should be a joyous time, and he thought it would be, for the first time since the accident, but once he was bombarded with ‘the holiday spirit’ the only spirit he wanted was the one he could drown himself with.In other words, Hank hates Christmas and is a Scrooge to Connor.





	1. Ch.1 Questions

**Author's Note:**

> Every December, my family watches EVERY Christmas Carol that we can find. After watching three in a row one night, I had the idea of mixing it with my current obsession, Detroit: Become Human. I've never written anything that wasn't a school assignment before, so I'm sorry if it's trash. I just wanted to contribute.   
> You know that scene in Forrest Gump where Forrest has all those people running with him and suddenly he turns to them and says, "I'm kinda tired, I think I'll go home now." Everyone is dumbfounded and one guy is like, "Now what?"  
> That's how I feel the fandom is going. Having always sat in the backseat of a fandom, or joined far too late for anyone to really care, I wanted to at least say I tried.   
> Updates will be a little erratic, but I'm too far gone in this fandom to abandon it, so it will be done. I also have a few ideas for other stories involving our favorite detective duo, mostly one-shots.

With everything that has happened in the last month, it should have felt different. He was no longer alone, but if anything, it made him feel worse. The ‘android turned deviant’ that was currently sitting in the passenger side of his car was a constant reminder of the child he lost. It wasn’t his fault, he was technically a child, made more evident with his lack of understanding anything that wasn’t part of his original programming, which is more than you might think, even excluding his newfound emotions. 

 

In the beginning, it was fine, being bombarded with dozens of questions the moment he got back from work. Seems that t.v. actors could not stand up under the scrutiny of his ‘human relations’ program, leaving the poor bastard confused as to why the cop of 10 years was still surprised when another murder happened during a serial killer investigation. Most of the time, Hank would have a good laugh at the android’s expense, Connor would either give him a dirty look or look down in embarrassment, and then Hank would try to answer his questions until either Connor got it or it was clear he was not going to get it. 

 

Once the decorations started going up, the questions were inevitable. Connor wasn’t an idiot, but other than having the date marked on a internal calendar, he had no idea what Christmas was. It’s not like Christmas would matter much in the world of criminology. 

 

“Hank, why are they wrapping the light posts with strands of lights? Surly the light it produces is more than sufficient for its intended purpose.”

 

“They’re decorating for Christmas.”

 

“Oh,” God that confused face, “it looks nice.”

 

That had opened the floodgates, in more ways than one. Connor refused to download information on the holiday, wanting to learn more organically. Every question about the stupid holiday, every awed expression at the lights and colors, every look of pure child innocence that shown in Connor’s eyes brought back memories of the boy who shared that same curiosity. 

 

Cole.

 

_ “Wow, daddy, look at all the pretty colors!” _

 

_ “Why does Santa have to break-in to leave presents? Will you have to take him to jail?” _

 

_ “Are we going to hang up lights?” _

 

Connor had no idea what ran through the old lieutenant’s mind. Hank had always been unpredictable, so his occasional outbursts had been written off as a bad day at the DPD. He hoped that once he joined the force as a full fledged detective, he could help ease some of Hank’s increasing stress. Several laws had been hastily passed to allow androids to work government jobs after it was revealed how much the government had relied on them to do all the menial tasks. It also left the police departments outmanned for all the sudden riots, from both anti-android activists and android supporters. 

 

While he was squeezing by on a technicality (being the only android detective and only created to hunt deviants, his absence would not be missed), Fowler was practically dragging anybody with police training onto the force. Detroit was ground zero, and already a violent city. Once the evacuation orders were lifted, the DPD was quickly overwhelmed. While Connor was happy to be useful, it seemed that it was still not enough to ease Hank’s stress. 

 

It wasn’t too long before Hank went from drinking one glass of whiskey before bed to drinking a pint, then, half a fifth. He was making progress with his drinking habits. Connor could not understand what would make the man do a complete 180. It was frustrating, to say the least. 

 

It all culminated to this moment, in Hank’s car, with Connor, wearing a Santa hat that Tina gave him, flicking his coin back and forth. The fuckin’ android actually learned to flick it to the tune of ‘Jingle Bells’. 

 

“Hank, would it bother you if I decorated the house for Christmas?” Connor meant well, hoping the lights and colors would help boost the older man’s mood. 

 

“Yeah, I do mind,” Hank’s hands ground down on the steering wheel. While Connor took notice of the aggressive motion, he pressed on.

 

“Can I ask why?” 

 

Hank snapped.

 

“‘Cause it’s my fuckin’ house! I don’t want you puttin’ up a bunch of trashy-ass lights all over it for some dumbass holiday! And take that stupid hat off!”

 

Connor dropped his quarter at the sudden outburst LED shifting to red before slowly shifting back to blue. He solemnly pulled the hat from his head and held it in his lap, running his thumbs slowly over the faux fur lining. 

 

“Sorry, Lieutenant.”

 

Hank knew he only referred to him by title outside of work when he was feeling a strong emotion. Whether he did it out of spite or due to some kind of comfort that came from reverting to his old speech pattern, Hank didn’t know and in this moment, didn’t care. The android looked on the verge of tears and he hadn’t had a drink all day and he was tired of hearing about Christmas and it was too much,  **too fuckin’ much!**

 

“Dammit Connor, why don’t you go hang out with your robot buddies for a while? I’m sure they’d love to celebrate Christmas.”

“Sure, Lieutenant, I’ll inform Marcus.”

 

If Hank noticed the red LED reflected in the window, he said nothing.


	2. Ch.2 *Click*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haunted by thoughts of the past, Hank tries to drown them out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the chapters are a little short, I was gonna make it longer, but it seemed too good not to leave it at a cliffhanger. The next chapter should be longer.

After feeding Sumo and giving him one final pat on his head, Connor was gone, leaving Hank alone in his house. It felt like it had before Connor showed up, empty and devoid. Not too far off from what Hank was feeling in that very moment. He knew he had been too cruel, said things he shouldn’t have. It made the emptiness feel so much worse, weighed down with guilt and self loathing. 

 

He grabbed one of the recently procured bottles of whiskey and a glass before dropping his aching body into one of the kitchen chairs. He quickly poured himself a full glass before drinking it in one go, setting himself up with another. Looking at the table, he realized the photo was no longer sitting in it’s old spot in front of him, replaced with a bowl of fruit Connor kept insisting he eat. He shoved it off the table and watched as apples bruised under their own weight, grapes ripped from their vines, and oranges rolled away. 

 

Even without the photo, the image of his son was burned in his skull. 

 

_ “How can Santa gonna fit down our tiny chimney?” _

 

He threw back another drink, and another. His thoughts were starting to become hazy, his memories obscuring for a moment before replaying that horrible night over and over again. He still had a couple presents that he had gotten early stowed away in the back corner of his closet. He’ll never get to see the look of excitement on Cole’s face when he opens them. His mind would only show his precious child’s face contorted into pain, covered in blood, before suddenly going lax. He could only see his little boy being wheeled away on a gurney that was far too big by two male android nurses. He remembers the pain in is hand after punching one of those nurses in the face, cracking the plastic underneath, after he had told him that his son didn’t make it.

 

If only he could get rid of his mind.

 

He pulled out his revolver. Checked the cylinder. One bullet.

 

After another drink, he gave the cylinder a quick spin before placing the muzzle against his temple.

 

*Click*

 

Another play through of that night, but this time Cole is begging. 

 

_ “Why didn’t you help me, daddy?” _

 

Another drink. Another spin.

 

*Click*

 

Cole looks distorted, his eyes are pleading, cheeks stained with tears.

 

_ “Dad, I’m scared.” _

 

Another drink.

 

_ “Dad, please.” _

 

Another Spin.

 

_ “Don’t do this.” _

 

All Hank remembers at this point is a loud bang and the sound of Sumo barking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, Hank!
> 
> I don't know how it feels to lose a child, so I kinda winged it here. Sorry if it fell flat.
> 
> Please let me know what you think!


	3. Ch.3 Bittersweet (Trip Down Memory Lane)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank relives past memories long forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to have this chapter out on Friday, but I fell asleep while editing it. I hope its coherent, I keep choosing the middle of the night to write despite having to get up early, and I must have re-edited this 28 times (lol). If you see any mistakes, in any chapters, please let me know. As I said, I've never written anything like this before so I don't really know what I'm doing.
> 
> In case you're curious, the main Christmas Carol's that really inspired me to write this is the musical with Kelsey Grammar (2004) and Scrooge (Also a musical) with Albert finney (1970). The two of them combined just felt like Hank's personality.

“Hank.”

 

What the fuck? Since when did Connor sound like a girl?

 

“Hank, wake up.”

 

He felt a hand on his shoulder, lightly jostling him. No way this was Connor, far too gentle.

 

“Kara, is he dead?”

 

“No, Alice, just sleeping. Hank, you gotta wake up.”

 

He slowly opens his eyes, taking in the faces of a young woman with short hair and a child, a little girl. After staring at the two for a moment, he realizes that he recognized them. They were the android and child that played Frogger to get away from Connor. Apparently, Connor had ran into them at Jericho and was able to clarify things, but they were supposed to be in Canada. 

 

“What the fu-what are you doin’ here?”

 

“We’re here to help,” Kara chimed, smiling softly. 

 

Hank pulled himself into a sitting position. She was definitely an improvement to Connor’s method of sobering him up, but this is getting ridiculous. He was a grown man, he didn’t need a babysitter. Connor had to have sent her to check on him, which only added to his anger. He eyed the child before picking his words carefully.

 

“Do all androids have a habit of breaking into a man’s house with the intent to ‘help’?” Her smile faltered. “Look, I’m doin’ just fine on my own, so how ‘bout you mind yer own business and get out of my house, and you tell Connor I don’t need ‘im sending his buddies to keep an eye on me.”

 

“Connor didn’t send us, the spirits of the holidays did. We came here to guide you. You have been frozen in time, forgetting everything that once gave you joy and brought happiness to others. We want to help you remember.”

 

“Spirits of the holidays, right. I don’t need any help rememberin’. I don’t know what Connor has been telling you, but just ‘cause I won't let ‘im put up some fucking Christmas lights he thinks I’m the one with the problem! I don't need this shit! ” He noticed the child flinch, Kara instantly putting her arm around the girl. He hadn’t meant to shout, but Connor had no right to spread his personal life to anybody, no matter how pissed he was at Hank. Still, the little girl, Alice, looked at him with fear in her eyes. “Sorry for shoutin’, but I just want to get to bed.” He goes to stand up.

 

“I’m sorry too, Hank.”

 

At that, Kara placed her hand on his shoulder and suddenly everything was shifting, the colors of his dark kitchen rushed by and were replaced with a bright, snowy sidewalk. Brightly decorated houses lined the street he knew quite well. He had grown up here, but most of these houses were empty now, his own caught fire years after his parents had moved out and he was in the academy, yet, there it stood, just as brightly decorated as the rest.

“What the fuck?”

 

“Language, please, Hank.” 

 

He couldn’t help but give her an incredulous look. What kind of shit is this? Did she do some weird android link thing on him? Rather than explain, she merely pointed at something, taking Alice’s hand. 

 

“What’s going on over there?”

 

Hank looked in the direction she was pointing and stumbled back. Across the street, two kids were kicking at another that was lying in the fetal position on the ground. He remembered this moment. Subconsciously, he headed over to them.

 

“Hey, get off ‘em!” The two acted like they heard nothing. He was a few feet from them, clearly in sight, when he realized they couldn’t see or hear him. They kept at it until he saw a fourth child run up and tackle one of the boys to the ground. He watched the scene in awe as his younger self was quickly overtaken. He let out a chuckle, shaking his head.

 

“Dang, I was such an idiot back then. That’s Frankie and Terry Wilkinson, two older boys that used to terrorize all the kids that lived on this street, takin’ their lunch money and whatnot. I was about to shovel the driveway for my old man when I heard 'em fightin’. I couldn’t just let them beat on this poor kid.” At this point, both boys had turned on little Hank, one holding him still while the other punched.

 

“Is that what made you want to be a cop?” Alice looked up at him with doleful eyes, “To help people who couldn’t help themselves?”

 

“Yeah. Though, come to find out, the boy they were wailing on wasn’t so helpless after all.”

 

All three watched as the dark skinned boy that had been lying on the ground got up and tore one of the boys off, sending him spralling. The tables turned at this point, both boys taking on their own assalent. By some miracle, they had managed to fend the bullies off, watching as they ran off with the promise of getting back at them another day. It didn’t matter, they celebrated, justice had prevailed. 

 

“Not bad for your first week in the neighborhood. Name’s Hank, I live across the street from you.”

 

“You weren’t so bad yourself, thanks for the help. My name is Jeffery.”

 

Two boys with a strong sense of justice. While they both walked their own paths as they got older, they had each other’s backs. They got their asses kicked a lot, but they fought for what was right. Maybe, once everything calmed down, Hank will invite Jeffery out for a beer, and catch up on old times. Connor would probably love to hear all the juicy stories from when they were kids.

 

“Never did get the driveway shoveled. Soon as my dad seen us, he just shook his head and smiled, calling us idiots. He was proud, though, he'd never say it with my mother fussing over us. Makes me wish they were still around.”

 

At that, Kara placed her hand on his shoulder, the colors shifted again, sunlight replaced with the artificial fluorescents that illuminated the building. Looking around, he realized it was the DPD. All the androids were missing, along with their standby stations, desks sitting in their place instead. The computers also weren’t as nice as the ones they had now, Hank still remembers arguing with tech support every other day after accidently crashing his computer. 

 

The place was clearly festive, tinsel and garland decorated the entire place with some officers bringing in their own strands of lights to decorate their desks.

 

“The holidays were always a busy time for us, kept us away from home and our own families.”

 

“That doesn't seem to dampen everyone's spirits,” Kara stated, giving him a sideways glance as they took in their surroundings.

 

It was true, everyone seemed jovial, joking and laughing as they sipped their coffee and lazily did their reports. Now that he thought about it, the DPD hadn't been decorated like this in a while. A few younger officers had meager decorations, wore santa hats or reindeer headbands, but that was it. 

 

Getting a closer look, he realized most of the people there had either retired or transfered to other departments. 

 

“That’s John Hendren,” he pointed to an older detective, lean, but with a sharp look in his eyes, “he was one of the finest homicide detectives in Detroit,” Hank paused, “He was shot back in 2031, a suspect got ‘im from behind, along with his partner. The man was arrested three days later, but they both died from their injuries.”

 

“What an unfortunate accident.”

 

“Yeah,” Hank grit his teeth.

 

At that moment, a tall, well built man came barreling through, almost mowing the old man over.

 

“Careful Hank, or you'll be payin’ for my hip replacement!” 

 

The younger man merely laughed out an apology before making it over to the Captain's office.

 

“Didn’t realize I had put on that much weight,” he half-heartedly jokes, though he did just realize how big his beer belly had gotten over the years.

 

“Jeffery, you're not gonna believe who we got on the last drug bust!”

 

“Dammit, Hank, how many times do I gotta tell you to either call me Captain or Fowler at work?”

 

“Just come on!”

 

The three followed as Jeffery was led to the holding cells. As soon as he saw the two battered men inside, they both burst into laughter.

 

“Well, Merry Christmas to me!” Fowler jested between laughs. Inside the cells was none other than Frankie, covered in pockmarks and his brother Terry, sporting a black eye. They both scowled as they were mocked.

 

“Most I saw Jeffrey smile in a while,” the older Hank smiled, melancholic.

 

“Lieutenant, you have a little visitor!”

 

Turning to the voice, Hank couldn’t believe his eyes. Nikki, his ex-wife, was walking into the bullpen with a little bundle in her hands. He followed after his younger self, watched as his ex shifted the bundle into the latter’s arms. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes as he caught a glimpse at the sleeping baby. 

 

“Hey, little man. Came here to see daddy at work, huh?” The young lieutenant adjusted his grip on his three month old son, “one day, you'll be joining your old man here.” 

 

“You looked so happy,” Alice spoke softly, standing behind the older man. Hank glanced up at his younger self and couldn’t deny the look of utter joy on his face. Everything had been so perfect back then. First, with the promotion to lieutenant, despite his young age, and a month later, his son is born. It almost makes sense why his world came crashing down. That kind of happiness never lasted long, life was far too cruel. 

 

He looked back down at Cole, he had opened his eyes at this point, and while he knew it was impossible, he could have sworn that his child looked at him and smiled. 

 

“He was so cute. The apple of his father’s eye,” Kara smiled as she too looked at the little baby.

 

“Yer darn right he was.” Hank’s large fingers made quick work wiping away the tears running down his cheeks. He didn’t want the image of his son to be obstructed. Suddenly, Alice took his hand, the colors blurring again. He reached out with his free hand at the blur of colors that made up his son, but they were gone in a flash, replaced with the colors of his home, only everything was brighter. 

 

The house was decorated with multicolored strands of lights and garland hung from every door frame. Hank and Nikki were sitting on the couch whispering between themselves while Cole was surrounded by toys and torn up christmas wrapping. Hank recognized this memory. It was the last Christmas before the accident.

 

The last Christmas with his son.

 

That thought sent a pain through the older man’s chest. It made it all the more agonizing to watch, yet, seeing his boy so happy kept him from looking away. 

 

“Hey, Cole, there’s one more present left,” Cole looked at his father, bewildered, as he began looking around the tree for the missing gift. When he started shifting through all the paper, Hank’s younger self quickly moved to the master bedroom, grabbing a small bundle of fur in his arms.

 

When Cole was about to give up, he spotted his father standing at the end of the hall, his eyes blown wide.

 

“A PUPPY!” Cole ran up to his father, jumping for joy.

 

“Now calm down, son, don’t need to be scaring ‘im,” Hank spoke with a laugh. He placed the pup into his son’s eager arms, needing both to hold the rather large dog. A flash came from the side causing them both to turn their heads to the boy’s mother, sporting a camera. Seeing what Nikki was doing, Hank crouched down and brought the boy closer. They both smiled wide as she snapped another pic and Hank rejoined her on the couch, getting a better look.

 

“Definitely one for the album,” She spoke with a serene smile.

 

“That bitch took every last album we had when she left,” The present Hank sneered.

 

“Hank,” Kara’s spoke with a warning. He gave Alice a look and mumbled an apology before turning back to look at his son. 

 

“Why did you have to choose such a large dog? Surely, you could have found something smaller.” He heard Nikki complaining.

 

“He loves St. Bernards and they happened to have a pup at the pound.”

 

“I’m sure he wouldn’t have minded a pomeranian or a pug,” She sighed, dejected. 

 

“It’s Christmas, let the kid have what he wants,” he turns to Cole, “Hey, whatcha gunna name ‘im?”

 

Cole, who was previously being attacked by the puppy’s relentless tongue, turned to his dad. “Name? I get to name him?”

 

“Well, yeah, he is yours, ain’t he?” 

 

Cole seemed to ponder this for a moment before turning to his father.

 

“I’m going to name him Sumo!”

 

Hank tried to memorize every crease and crinkle in his son’s smile. He didn’t want this image to fade from his mind again.

 

“This is how I want to remember ‘im.”

 

“This is how he should be remembered, as the boy who brought so much joy in the short time he was here,” Kara spoke, a soft smile on her lips. 

 

“He wouldn’t want you to be sad,” Alice came up and took his hand, “he would want you to be happy.”

 

Hank was about to say something when they were all startled by the sound of a phone ringing, and his face contorted into a scowl.

 

“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” Nikki said, exacerbated. 

 

“Any longer and we could lose track of the suspect again, can’t be helped,” His younger self spoke with a sigh.

 

“But dad, it’s Christmas, you can’t go to work today!” Cole looked so upset, sending another pang to his older self’s heart. It wasn’t even worth leaving his house, they had the wrong suspect and ended up wasting the whole day on a dead end.

 

“Sorry, Cole, but someone’s gotta get the bad guys. I’ll make it up to ya, promise.”

 

His boy looked on the verge of tears, bringing up a similar memory of just this afternoon. Hank felt so much anger. He kept letting down the people he cared about.

 

“Ok,” Cole forced himself to smile, “Go get ‘im dad!”

 

His past self smiled back and began to head towards the door. 

 

“Dammit, don’t go!” He shouted to himself, “Stay with ‘im!” He knew it was pointless, his past self couldn’t hear him, but he couldn’t help himself. How could he be so stupid. He put his job before his son, and ended up missing precious moments with him. 

 

Alice grabbed his arm, hugging it to herself and the colors began to swirl.

 

“No, let go of me!” Hank tried to throw the little girl off, blinded by his own anger. As the colors settled on the familiar sight of his house as it was now, Kara hid Alice behind her.

 

“Why the hell couldn’t you leave me there? Why did you take my son from me?” He knew he was being irrational, but he had his son, right there. He could hear his laughter and see his smile, and now he was gone again. 

 

“Hank, leave her alone. This is your past, she can’t change it,” Kara’s voice rang out, steadfast in her duty to protect her child. Hank tried to calm down, but the sound of a voice only re-ignited his rage.

 

“I’m leaving,” Nikki said, her voice weary. 

 

“So I lose my son and my wife in the same year, huh?” He watched his drunken self look at his wife from across the kitchen table.

 

“Take me back, I don’t want to see this,” Hank’s hands shook as he tried to keep his voice level.

 

“We can’t, you have to-”

 

“God dammit, take me back before I turn you to scraps!” Hank started to gain on the small woman before he felt a set of large hands on his shoulders. Looking behind him, he saw a hulking, dark skinned man keeping him in place.

 

“Thank you, Luther,” Kara spoke as she relaxed a bit. Luther nodded to her before looking back down.

 

“I’m sorry, Hank, but you need to see this.”

 

He was forced in the direction of the kitchen table as his ex stood on the other side.

 

“All you do is lie around here and drink, I’m not going to sit here and watch you kill yourself.” 

 

He scoffed, “I never could count on ya when times were hard, why would now be any different.” He shook his head and took another swig from his glass.

 

“You don’t get to sit there and judge me,” her voice was rising, “you weren’t the only one to lose a son, he was my child too! You sit here drowning yourself and I had to deal with my own grief by myself!”

 

“I tried, you pushed me away, and now you’re gonna blame me? Fuck you.” Another drink. “You blame me for the whole fuckin’ accident!” He slammed his drink down onto the table, shattering the bottom of the glass. “You weren’t there! I did all I could to save him!”

 

A tense quiet fell on the house. Nikki slowly walked away and grabbed her bags. As she headed out the door, she said one last thing.

 

“There had to have been something.”

 

As his past self chugged down the rest of the bottle of whiskey, Hank screamed in anguish.

 

“You fuckin’ bitch! What would you know!?! You weren’t there! You weren’t the one who had to pull his little body out of the car! You weren’t the one who had to watch as he was wheeled away! You weren’t even there when he was out of surgery! Fuck you!” He sobbed. He hadn’t even realized he had started crying. He turned to Kara, Luther’s hands keeping him in place. “Why did you bring me here? Why the fuck should I remember this?” 

 

He crumpled to the ground, face buried in his hands. He felt a small hand try to grab at his right arm, pulling lightly. Looking up, he saw Alice with tears running down her cheeks. She looked so hurt, not because of him, but for him. Tentatively, he reached out to her. She walked forward and he wrapped her up in his embrace, careful not to squeeze too hard. The room darkened as Luther, Kara, and his past self disappeared from view.

 

“It wasn’t your fault, Hank.”

 

He only sobbed harder as Alice began to fade from his grasp and he was left alone in his kitchen once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kara: The Spirits of the holidays sent me.
> 
> Hank: ThE SpIrIts Of thE hOlIdAys sEnt mE.
> 
> I know I might have played Hank a little aggressively in the end, but anger makes you do a lot of things you regret, especially bottled up anger. I also believe that Hank hates his ex-wife since there are NO photos of her anywhere. I know a lot of people write her as dead, but, if she was, you would think there would be at least one photo of her. He also never mentions her. If he was a widow who also lost his son, there would be a lot of grief about that. That is the child of the woman you loved and lost, the last thing you had to tie yourself to her, that is not something you just brush under a rug. 
> 
> Anyway, I'm sorry for being a dick to Hank... again. If you still liked the story, please comment and leave kudos, they make me feel special. Who knows, maybe with enough kudos, I won't hurt Hank in the next chapter. (I'm lying. What happens, happens, but I still appreciate all the love. Thank you!)


	4. Ch.4 Tradition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank is forced to experience Christmas present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to post each spirit as one chapter, but I'm realizing that doing that might take away from the story (or maybe I should learn when to shut the hell up, I don't know which). In any case, this is part one of the present. I hope you enjoy!

Hank awoke with a jolt. At some point, he must've passed out. Sitting up from the cold tile, he rubbed at his raw eyes, mind wondering to what had just happened. Had it been just a dream? A pretty fucked up dream if so. Getting up from the ground with a groan and a couple cracks, he reached for the bottle of whiskey. He needed something to dull the pain in his chest. Before he could, however, another hand got to it first.

“Markus?”

The android leader sat at the kitchen table and merely smiled before bringing the bottle up to his nose and wincing.

“This stuff will kill you,” Markus said before setting the bottle back on the table, albeit out of Hank's immediate reach.

Markus rarely left Jericho or Carl’s, especially without his little entourage. He had only visited Hank once, and that was to speak to Connor about the incident on stage at Hart Plaza. Weirder still was his attire. Clad in a decorative green robe with gold trim and wearing what looked to be a wreath, carefully woven with branches of holly, sat upon his head like a crown. Markus always was conscious of any fashion trends. 

“That's kinda the point. Why are you doin’ this to me? Why the fuck do you bastards have’ta come barging in, fuckin’ up my life? What can you possibly gain from this shit?,” Hank could tell he wasn't there for Connor. He can't handle another trip down memory lane. It felt like losing Cole all over again, breaking him and shredding his heart into pieces. Hank went to reach for the bottle again but Markus stood up from the kitchen table,taking the bottle in hand.

“It's not about what we can gain, this is for you. Is your life so terrible that it warrants killing yourself? Is there nothing worth living for?” Hank hesitated before regaining his composure.

“I ain't about to justify my actions to some self-righteous prick! You fuckers have no right digging into my past and throwin’ it in my face!”

Markus stood there, a sympathetic look graced his features.

“The past can be painful, but it's important to remember where you came from and what brought you here,” Markus smiled, “however, I'm not concerned with what happened. I'm more interested in showing you how to live in the here and now, in the world you have shunned for far too long.”

“I don't give a shit, I'm having a drink and going to bed. You can take the world and shove it.”

“And where would you like me to shove it, Hank?” Markus sporting a shit-eating grin. Clearly he was more comfortable with this kind of banter than Connor, probably thanks to Carl. The old man could be quite the firecracker.

“Nevermind, just get the fuck out of my house.”

“Great idea,” Markus had a glint in his eye that showed nothing good in it. “Let's get out and experience the day!” He grabbed Hank's arm and dragged him to the door.

“Hey, let go of me, asshole! I'm not goin’ anywhere! Go experience it by yerself!” Markus was not taking ‘no’ for an answer.

“Come, let’s see what our favorite detective is up to this Christmas,”Markus opened the front door to reveal Connor, standing by the street, with a large bag over his shoulders. He was wearing that stupid Santa hat again, an odd contrast to his android jacket. Hank vows to see that jacket burn before the end of the year. More important, why was he outside his house?

“I thought I told him to spend Christmas at yer place, what’s he doin’ here?”

Markus frowned, “Connor hasn’t been with me or anyone else at New Jericho.”

“Well, where the hell has he been?” Hank didn’t like where this was leading.

At that moment, an automated taxi pulled up and as Connor climbed in, Markus dragged Hank to the other side and shoved him in, not even bothering with the door, before climbing in himself. Luckily, Connor is always sitting on the edge of his seat, ready to spring into action, or Hank would’ve ended up sitting in his lap.

“How the fuck- you know what, I don't care. Where the hell are we headed?”

“I wouldn't know, that's for Connor to decide.” Connor's LED flashes yellow for a moment before returning to blue, then he pulled out his quarter and started flicking it, this time to the tune of ‘Holly Jolly Christmas’. Leave it to Connor to turn a quarter into a musical instrument. The cab pulled away from the curb, quickly making its way through the morning traffic.

“Great,” bastard used his robot sync to tell the cab where to go. Stuck between the two festive androids, Hank couldn’t help but wonder. “Why the hell is Christmas so important to ya anyway?” Christmas was still a week away, hardly considered to be the present.

“This is the one time of year where humans of all kinds treated androids as equals, even before the revolution, sharing in the holiday spirit. It has the power to bring out the good in even the most hardened people, if only given the opportunity.” Markus eyed Hank as he answered, the older man grumbled before looking over at the sack in front of Connor. The top was twisted over, so there was no way to see inside. He’d be lying if he wasn’t the least bit curious.

After a few more minutes, the cab stopped and they all clambered out. In front of them was a massive mansion, decorated with thick spruce garland interlaced with white Christmas lights running along the trim, with red ribbon laced around the banisters ending with large red and gold bows. Several snowmen, perfectly crafted, scattered around the front yard.

“Damn, Carl sure must love Christmas,” Hank observed.

“That, and many androids are still new to the holidays now that they are free to celebrate them, so, we’ve invited any that do not already have a place to go to come here.”

“If that’s so, why isn’t Connor staying here?”

“Connor is his own person, I have no control over where he decides to stay. I only know he has decided not to stay with us.”

“What the hell are you thinkin’, Connor?” Hank spoke, knowing full well that he couldn’t get an answer. During this time, Connor had been waiting at the front door, free hand hovering over the doorbell, LED spinning yellow. Putting his hand down, Connor looked towards the ground. Hank felt the urge to slap him on the back and yell at him to get it over with. Why the hell was he hesitating? Markus placed his hand on Connor’s shoulder and suddenly a bar with 45% appeared next to his head.

“The fuck is that?”

“This is his stress level. All androids are able to scan for stress, I just made it visible to you.” Hank wasn’t going to bother asking how, he knew he wouldn’t get a straight answer. Just gonna chalk it up as another of those spirit-dream things.  **45%** seemed pretty high. Hank remembered what Connor told him would happen if a deviant becomes too stressed. It left him feeling uneasy. What could be bothering him so much?

After taking a deep breath, quickly cooling down his overtaxed systems and bringing his stress to **38** **%** , he rang the doorbell. Hand twitching when there was no immediate answer, he almost tried the bell again, instead, he patted the front pocket of his jacket, his hand stopping at something, making his stress levels drop to **30%**.  As he was adjusting the bag on his shoulder, the door opened and Simon stood on the other side, smiling at the detective.

“Hello Connor, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Simon always had an easy way about him, probably due to his original programming.

Connor looked to the ground again, a tense look in his face, stress at  **37%** , “I learned that it is traditional to give gifts on Christmas, so I thought…” He trailed off, clearly uncomfortable. It didn't make any sense, why was he actin’ like this? 

Then it clicked.

Connor had told Hank about his first mission, stating that a PL600 was responsible for killing a man and holding his daughter hostage. Connor had sacrificed himself and, in the process, developed a fear of heights. Even though Connor spoke highly of Simon, the similarities still got to him at the worst times.

Simon knew the story and seemed to understand, “Please, come in. Everyone is in the foyer,” He stated, moving out the way so Connor could enter. Hank and Markus followed behind, Hank taking in the view while Markus kept him moving.

“Nice place,” was all Hank could say. Even on the inside, the place was filled with elaborate decor. Once they entered the foyer, a Christmas tree, at least 20 feet tall, sat perfectly framed by a large window. the light of the morning sun glistening on the various tinsel and ornaments. Within the room, Markus was chatting with Carl over breakfast while North and Josh were arguing over where to hang the mistletoe. Connor made a quick scan of the room before his stress dropped to  **20%** .

“Must be strange, seein’ yerself.” Hank stated idly.

“True, but I’m not really him. I’m just a spirit, borrowing his image,” Markus stated. Hank looked over, but just shook his head.

“Couldn’t find a better mug than his, eh?” Markus only smiled before turning back to the scene before them.

Once the group noticed Connor enter, they offered their greetings. Simon decided to busy himself by taking away Carl’s empty breakfast dishes. Markus patted Carl on the shoulder before heading over to Connor, greeting him with a hug. Markus found he was quite fond of physical affection since his deviancy.

“Merry Christmas, Connor. Did you decide to spend Christmas with us?” Markus enquired.

“Unfortunately, today is a busy day at the station, so I can’t. I got my first paycheck last week and since it is traditional to give gifts, I decided to drop them off before heading to work,” Connor began to dig into his bag.

“Thank you, Connor. This really isn’t necessary,” Markus smiled, always happy to hear about the changes they were making for their kind.

“I know,” he spoke, still digging through the bag, “but to be honest, I really didn’t know what to do with it. I don’t have any needs to be addressed and Hank refused my offer to pay rent, so I see no better way to spend it than on the people I care about.” Connor spoke. Stress at  **%5**

“You could buy yerself a new jacket,” Hank mumbled. Still, he noticed how excited the android looked as he placed several gifts onto the table, everyone making their way over. Connor handed out the gifts and they all started to tear into the wrapping. The only one not present was Simon, whose gift was still in Connor’s hand.

“I also have this to donate to New Jericho,” Connor added, pulling out some cash and handing it to Markus, “I know it’s not much, but I’d like to help out in some way.”

There it was again, his LED rested on yellow, stress jumping to  **17%.** What could he be thinkin’ about so hard?

Markus rested his hand on Connor’s shoulder, a sympathetic smile on his face.

“I know how much you wish to contribute, and having a detective on our side makes a lot of us feel safer during these trying times. I’m sure everyone will start to warm up to you. Until then, you still have our trust and friendship. You will always welcome here.”

Connor nodded, “Thank you, I really appreciate it.” His LED circled back to blue, but his face held a bit of sadness to it. Hank wished he could reassure the kid, but he didn’t even know what was going on. Bottling up his emotions and hiding his problems is probably one of the worst traits to develop from humans, but it kept him safe before deviating. 

“Check it out Markus, he got me a nerf gun! Thanks Connor!” North shouted, excited, as she pointed the plastic gun at Josh, who scoffed.

“Yes, thank you,” Josh spoke, brandishing a new messenger bag, along with a few journals with ‘peace’ written in gold cursive on the front. Connor gave them a genuine smile, far too rare a sight. The others must have thought so too as their smiles widened.

Before anyone else could speak, three androids Hank had never met before walked in. Hearing the door, they all turned, Connor’s face fell.  **53%.**

“What’s HE doing here? Gonna arrest another one of your people, or are you trying to kill our leader again?” one of the androids, a JB300, spat. The other two looked at Connor like he was a pest. The sharp words made Connor wince, LED circling to red.  **77%.** Hank began to feel his blood boil. Carl wheeled his way in front of the three, clearly just as angry.

“We do not talk like that in this house. Connor is just as welcome as anyone else here,” he spoke, voice full of authority, despite his age. Connor’s LED ticked back to yellow,  **64%** . It was nice to know Carl was on his side. Carl is well respected in the android community since it was his guidance that helped Markus lead his people. “Apologize to the man.”

“That won’t be necessary, Carl, thank you. I don’t wish to take up anymore of everyone's time,” Connor spoke quickly before he forced a quick smile, painful to look at and clearly fake. He turned to Markus and handed him the final present. “Could you make sure Simon gets this? I wish I could have given it to him personally, but I must be on my way. I still have a few stops to go. Merry Christmas everyone.”

“Wait, Connor!” Markus shouted but Connor grabbed his bag and rushed out. One of the three androids tried to trip him, but he was quick to adjust his step. Hearing one of them whisper ‘fucking traitor’ however, made his stress level jump to  **81%** . Hank felt his chest tighten with dread.

Connor didn’t stop until he was back in the automated car that had been waiting for him. Once inside, he started panting heavily as his hands gripped at his synthetic hair, pulling hard. Hank tried to reach out to him, but his arm fazed right through. He wanted to go back in there and dismantle those plastic assholes, but the car started to move, already programmed with the next destination in mind. Not that it mattered. 

“How the hell could they hate ‘im? If it weren’t for his help, they’d all be Tupperware by now! You can’t do anything?” Hank seethed.

“I wish I could, but this is out of my hands. Connor is the only android built with the purpose of destroying his own kind. He was also designed with extra fail-safes to prevent Cyberlife from losing control over him. After what happened at Hart Plaza, many do not trust him.”

Hank, of course, knew the story behind the night at Hart Plaza, when his handler, an A.I. named Amanda, tried to take control of him and make him shoot Markus. Connor was able to exit the mind palace in time, but the incident was captured on camera. Naturally, the news had a heyday with it. Connor was already distrusted among many of the deviants since Jericho fell because of him, this was just icing on the cake. Connor invited Markus and his group over to explain what happened. After sharing the memory with them, Markus was able to smooth things out with the reporters, but it seemed that it left its mark.

“The boy would give his life for ‘em and this is the thanks he gets?” Connor’s breathing was starting to calm down, stress at **66%,** LED Starting to turn yellow.

“It seems that he is suffering from more than just being left out,” Markus stated, “his past actions still haunt him.” Hank knew what he meant. While Connor rarely talks about his problems, sometimes they leak through. Connor used to enter standby mode at night to keep his systems updated and to run diagnostics, but after becoming a deviant, he started to have nightmares. Hank would find him on the couch, screaming in agony. He’d wake up in a panic before everything caught up to him. He stopped sleeping after the third time, instead opting to watch infomercials until something came on or it was time to get ready for work.

“Can’t even trust his own people to be there for him.” Hank looks at Connor with remorse. “Shit. I wasn’t there for ‘im,” Hank realized. He had pushed Connor away when the kid really needed him. 

Connor slowly leaned back and took a final deep breath. He was still at **53** **%** , but the car had stopped at their next destination. Taking a moment to compose himself, Connor placed his hand into his front jacket pocket. Again, his stress levels dropped, now at **39%**. He climbed out and headed for the doors of the DPD.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't bring myself to write Carl as dead. I don't give a shit, he is alive in my mind and doing well thanks to Markus and Simon taking care of him. Old man still has a few years left in him. 
> 
> I also find that a nerf gun is probably the best gift you can give to a hotheaded individual, such as North. They are fun during the good times and during the bad times, it's hard to keep a straight face while shooting people with little pieces of foam. I had one that was a pistol and we used it to play Russian Roulette when making decisions. 
> 
> I know I keep having the ghost answer as if he IS Markus, but I figure since Hank associates him as such, that's how he would act, and since the ghost knows what Markus knows, it would be easy for him to answer as if he is him. Also, if you can't remember which model a JB300 is and you don't feel like looking it up, it's one of the androids from Stratford Tower. I imagine even if Connor didn't try to shoot Markus or take down Jericho, he would still be disliked by them. Use your imagination for what the other two are. XP
> 
> I've got some vacation time, so I'm hoping to post a little faster. I would like this to be finished before Christmas. I'm also working on a few reader inserts for the holidays I would like to post before then as well. Thank you for your patience!


	5. Ch.5 Rats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cont. of part one of the present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, this chapter is a bit graphic and might not be suitable for some. I didn't mark this story with explicit for nothing.

As the three entered the DPD, something Connor said earlier struck Hank as odd.

 

“I don't get it, I thought he had more stops before headin’ to work?”

“So you noticed, though, being a detective of your caliber, I'm not surprised,” Markus spoke, “Connor is actually only on call today.”

“How the hell do you know that?”

“I am the present, Hank. I know everything that's happening now.”

“Alright, then what the hell is he doin’ here?” Hank smirked.

“Why spoil the surprise?” Markus mocked as Hank scoffed. Worth a shot.

 

Once in the bullpen, Connor moved over to his desk and set his bag down. The place was mostly empty, only a couple of detectives with the misfortune of being thrown a case today sat at their desks. Connor pulled out several small gifts and placed them on a few desks, starting with Miller's. With each gift he set down, his stress ebbed away until, after one of the detectives thanked him, it was down to  **5%.** As he set down the last gift, who should walk in but the resident asshole.  **12%.**

“The fuck you doin’ here, tin can? Lookin’ for your drunkin’ prom date?” Gavin sneered, clearly pissed at being called in today, “fuckin’ plastic gets the day off while I have to come and pick up the slack. Some grade A bullshit.”

“I'm just here delivering gifts,” Connor sifted through the bag before he pulled out another present, “Don't worry detective, I didn't forget you.” He held the gift out to Gavin as he continued to dig in his now almost empty bag.

 

“Why'd he get that asshole anything?” Hank asked incredulously, “treats him like shit and Connor thinks he deserves a present?”

“Maybe Connor can see there’s more to Gavin than most,” Markus suggested.

“Maybe Connor needs his eyes checked.”

 

Gavin was frozen in place, staring at Connor's outstretched hand. Hesitant, he took the gift and began to open it. Inside was a new coffee cup, with a big middle finger printed on the front. A clink from inside prompted Gavin to look inside, only to burst out laughing a second later.

“You little shit.”

Inside was a small lump of coal. Gavin looked at Connor and gave him a half-smile.

“Thanks, tinman, but don't expect me to be all buddy-buddy with you. Gotta image to uphold.”

“Of course not, detective. Don't expect me not to beat your ass next time you deserve it,” Connor smirked.  **5%.** Gavin merely shook his head and headed to the breakroom, dumping the piece of coal on his desk along the way. Hank looked on absolutely baffled. The kid had actually won over the department dipshit. 

 

“If only given the opportunity,” Markus quoted himself. Hank almost didn't hear him. 

 

Markus grabbed onto Hank, just noticing Connor was on the move again, having left the bag at his desk, heading to Fowler's office. He knocked before being waved inside. Fowler was sitting at his desk, as usual.

“Merry Christmas, Captain,” Connor handed fowler a medium sized gift.

“Thanks, Connor, and Merry Christmas,” Fowler took the gift and gave him a wry smile. Connor turned to leave, “How's Hank?”

He froze before turning back **. 20%.** He placed his hand over his front pocket.

“He's still feeling unwell. If there's another cas-”

“It’s not about that. Connor, I've known Hank for years and I know how he gets.”

 

“The fuck's that supposed to mean?” Hank growled.

“Quiet, Hank.”

 

“Nothing I can't handle.” Connor feigned a smile. 

Fowler shrugged, “Good to hear it. Glad he has someone else on his side.”

Connor nodded, “Thank you, Captain. Enjoy your evening,” he turned to leave once more.

“You too, detective,” Connor seemed to stand taller at the title as he headed out the door.

He went to his desk and grabbed his bag, nodding to Gavin on his way out. Gavin raised his now full coffee cup before returning to his work. Connor's steps seemed much lighter as he headed back to his taxi. Before Hank could climb in, Markus placed a hand on his shoulder.

“We'll meet up with him later. There's somewhere else we have to head to,” Markus led him to a dark alley before they emerged in front of a abandoned apartment building. Hank looked over, bewildered, but Markus just continued on.

 

“There better not be any stupid fuckin’ pigeons.”

 

Once inside, they headed to the stairwell, in the direction of the boiler room. Markus gestured for Hank to head in front of him. Even though he knew nothing could hurt him, he still wished he had his gun. The place gave off a bad vibe. Pushing open the door, he was immediately hit with the sickeningly familiar smell of rotting flesh. Littering the ground were rats, in various states of decay. In closer examination, Hank noticed that many had their chest sliced open, some even sported stitches. 

“What the fuck?” What could he possibly need to see here? While this could be classified as a crime scene, animal cruelty wasn’t his specialty.

Turning a corner, they came upon the source of the grisly scene before them. On a makeshift operating table was a rat, long dead, with the skin of his chest pulled open. A large flashlight hung from the roof, showcasing the disgusting sight. Some quick movement out the corner of his eye made Hank jump.

“Don't worry, little one, I'm going to save you.” A male android stood by the table, taking a scalpel and cutting into the rat's ribs. When the heart and lungs were exposed, the android lightly nudged them with his fingers. When they didn't illicit a response, he nudged them a little harder.

“No… no, no, no, no, NO! Come on, little one!” The android was starting to tremble, tears running down his face. With a final nudge, the android collapsed onto his knees, sobbing. Hank took a step back. He had seen enough.

“Does this android not look familiar to you?” Markus spoke softly, but his voice was full of emotion. In it was both sadness and anger. Hank looked closer at the distraught being before them. When he first saw the nurse model android, he had a hunch as to why he was supposed to be here, but the indentation in his left cheek with a piece of white plastic protruding from his synthetic skin under his temple sealed the deal.

 

This was the android that had operated on his son.

 

“He only has the capabilities to handle small surgeries. He might be able to assist with major operations, but those tasks rest solely with humans. That didn't stop one doctor though, did it?” Hank sneered at Markus’ words.

“No, it didn't. One doctor who put his needs over my son's.”

“Still, with no other options, the android tried his best. Went through every memory and procedure he had to save the little boy's life, but, it wasn't enough.” Hank watched the android before him as he continued to cry. He banged his fist at the ground, the synthetic skin pulled away and a small fracture formed, thirium slowly leaking through the crack.

“While it would normally be the doctor's job to inform the family, he was still locked in his office. He was supposed to go into standby until his next task.” Hank jerked his head towards Markus.

 

“He didn't  _ want  _ the boy's father to have to wait until the doctor could tell him.”

“No.”

“He didn't  _ want  _ him to suffer, not knowing his son's fate.”

“Shut up.”

“He broke through his program with the single thought of bringing closure to the father of the little boy he couldn't save. He wanted the father to know he did everything in his power to save his son, but before he got the chance, the father lashed out.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“He couldn't stay at the hospital, he had disobeyed. They were going to report him to Cyberlife and he was going to be dismantled. So, he fled. He hid in the first abandoned building he could find. He dwelled on that day, much like the father of that little boy, wondering what he could have done differently. It ate at him, his need to understand. He repeated the procedure again and again, but he wasn't built with the knowledge to be able to perform such a difficult operation. Every failure brought the image of that little boy back into his mind until he cracked under the guilt. He's been here, stuck in a past he had no control over, seeking forgiveness for something beyond his capabilities.”

Hank grit his teeth to stop the tears from falling. Even after the revolution, after he had accepted androids, he never once thought of the fate of the android that had performed the operation. He would have never guessed that the android would become a deviant. He didn't even know what a deviant was back then. He looked at the android one last time as Markus led him back the way they came.

“Jason.”

“What was that?”

“The android's name,” Hank spoke softly, “his name was Jason.”

Markus smiled soberly, “We have one final stop before we are done.”

 

Upon exiting the building, they stood outside of Hank's home.

“Earlier, you asked me where Connor had been staying,” Markus led Hank to the right side of his house. Under the kitchen window, curled into himself in the snow, sat Connor. His LED was solid red, stress at  **85%.** Hank heard a very distinctive sound, the *click* that was muffled by the window dividing them from the distressing spectacle inside. Connor flinched and his stress rose to  **91%** before falling back to  **85%** .

“Oh, Connor, no.”

“He didn’t want to leave you alone in the state you are in, afraid of what you might do.”

Another *click*.  **91%**

Connor reached into his front pocket and pulled out a tiny piece of metal. 

 

Hank’s last bullet.

 

Stress fell to  **79%** .

They both stared at the bullet as they heard another *click*. He still flinched, and his stress still jumped up to  **84%** before falling back.

“Every shot he worries might be your last. While you were sleeping, he took out the last bullet in your gun, hoping you wouldn’t notice and find another one. He wants to tell you to stop, but you just chase him away. It’s none of his business. This is your life to throw away.”

A different sounding *click* comes from the kitchen before Hank hears himself curse. Suddenly, the window above Connor shatters, broken glass raining down on him. The gun that had crashed through bounced off the fence in front of him and hit his shin. 

“GOD FUCKING DAMN IT, CONNOR!” Hank could hear himself shout, wincing at his own harsh tone before looking back at Connor. A few tears had escaped from his eyes, running slowly down his cheeks. Stress stuck at  **89%** . Connor didn’t like showing emotions, especially negative ones.

“Not exactly the ideal first Christmas, wouldn’t you agree, Hank?”

Hank only placed a hand over his own face, drawing it down with a sigh. Connor has been through so much in his short life. The bad far outweighed the good, and yet, he still tries his best to good for others. The boy deserves happiness. It’s Hank who doesn’t deserve him.

 

There’s a heavy thump from inside and Connor quickly wipes his eyes before getting up and carefully peering through the window. Inside, Hank is unconscious. He breathes out a heavy sigh before making his way clumsily through the window. Hank watches as he’s hulled up and carried down the hall, expecting to hear himself shout only to see Connor re-emerge a few moments later, Sumo following him. He fills the dog’s bowl and walks over to the window with a sheet and some duct tape in hand. 

 

As he blocks out the broken window, Hank feels a firm hand on his shoulder. As he turns around, expecting to see Markus, but the temperature seems to drop and his blood runs cold. What stands before him is a hooded figure, a black cloak hiding their identity. The shadows seemed to bend to the figure’s will, cascading the world around them in darkness. Never had Hank felt the kind of fear that embedded itself into his being. The figure did not speak, it merely gestured forward as the shadows parted to the setting before them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seemed so promising to be a nice chapter in the beginning, and then I went and fucked it up. 
> 
> I know a lot of people hate Gavin, I tend to hate him the more I see him in-game myself, but I feel that because in-game he is essentially the typical, underdeveloped bully, that he kind of needs to be re-evaluated a bit. There is just too much hatred that lacks any understanding for me to be completely satisfied with his role. I know not all anger and hatred can be explained, being an angry, hateful person myself, but there's a goddamn limit. In this case, after the revolution, Gavin still dislikes Connor, still sees him as a threat, but has seen him express emotion enough to accept that he is a living being, not that he will ever admit that. As Connor is often willing to return the banter with the hotheaded detective (so long as it doesn't affect his investigation), it has more of a rivalry feel to it. Also, anyone who has carved a niche for themselves (Such as being the resident asshole) does not like others to know of them any other way, so even though he appreciates Connor's gift, he's still going to be a dick. Only Connor and Gavin will know the truth, and neither one of them would say otherwise. (See it as a love thing, IDGAF. I don't ship them, but I ain't gonna show you how to sail.)
> 
> while I didn't exactly specify, I don't like the idea of animal cruelty, so as far as I'm concerned, the rats were dead beforehand, likely found in traps around the apartment complex. It started out as a study of how the body should look and run and how it can be fixed, but as the android's mind began to warp, he began to think he could save them, that if he could save just one, than he could save the little boy, too. Naturally, there would be repercussions if he did manage to save one (it would mean he could have saved the boy and he didn't try hard enough), but they are all already well beyond saving. I can only be so cruel. Another point, as I noticed a lot of androids actually went missing a couple years before deviancy was a big thing, I figured that could apply here as well. 
> 
> I know Hank can get more bullets, probably has more, but have you ever seen a drunk person try to open a soda can? You really think, even with years of practice, Hank can find and load another bullet in his inebriated state? That shit is done beforehand. Drunk Hank has to rely on Sober Hank to be on board with ending himself. Sorry if that sounds too casual for your liking, but it's true. 
> 
> My vacation has been extended, which is both good and bad. I have a few stories I'm working on, but housework has kept me from finishing them, and I can only stay up so late. If you see any mistakes, please let me know, and if you like the story, please leave kudos. They really brighten my day. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and the story so far!


	6. Ch.6 Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How are the shadows of the future cast?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings! This is the future! Nothing is sacred here!

As the darkness peeled away, Hank realized he was at New Jericho. Being a place solely for androids, Hank was never welcome inside. That didn't stop the shadow figure from insisting he enter the building, even shoving him roughly through the door. 

 

“Hey, easy, I'm goin’!” Hank grumbled. His fear was quickly turning to agitation at the hooded figure. Still, he headed in the direction that the spirit indicated. Eventually, he ended up in a white hallway with doors lining the right side and a large window on the left. It looked like a hospital wing. When he was about to ask where to go next, Markus and Simon were heading towards him.

 

“You said they found him surrounded by rats?” Markus stated, shocked.

 

“Yes, dead ones. Josh was looking at old buildings he believed could be converted into halfway houses when he found him.” Simon sorrowfully answered. 

 

Hank knew immediately who they were talking about as they entered one of the rooms. He followed behind and seen Jason strapped to a gurney. In the bright light, he could see just how dirty the android was, covered in old blood and dried chunks of things he didn't want to think about. He was mumbling something over and over, but he couldn't make out what he was saying.

 

“Unfortunately, we had to restrain him. He had lashed out when Josh tried to remove him and again against one of the nurses,” Simon spoke softly. Markus nodded to show he was listening as he reached down, letting the skin retract from his hand. What was supposed to have a calming effect was instead causing Jason to thrash and pull at his restraints. Markus quickly withdrew his hand, a solemn look on his features. Immediately, the android stopped fighting and went back to mumbling.

 

“We can try to do our best, but I don’t think we will be able to save him. His memories are completely corroded to the point that even if we reset his mind, he would be unable to retain any new memories,” Markus placed his hand on the android’s shoulder before turning away. Curiosity getting the best of him, Hank leaned his ear towards Jason’s mouth.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

 

Hank stepped away, but before he could process his thoughts, he heard Markus again.

 

“Hello, it’s good to hear from you,” Markus must have received a phone call. His face instantly bundled into confusion, “What? You want me to what? You’re not making any sense. Sumo?” Hearing his dog’s name instantly made Hank’s heart stop. “Connor? Connor! Shit!” Markus turned to Simon, “We need to go, NOW!”

 

“Right,” Simon following behind as Markus ran down the halls. Before he could follow, the shadows once again engulfed him, blocking which direction they had ran. 

 

“What the fuck is happenin’?” Hank was outright panicking now. Still the figure said nothing as the darkness cleared away once more, leaving him standing in the bullpen of the DPD. Hank looked around desperately, hoping to see Connor at his desk, or maybe in the breakroom, but he was in neither place. 

 

“You hear about the call about an hour ago?” Officer Miller was talking to Gavin, sadness tinting his voice.

 

“Yeah, looks like I’m in line to get a promotion,” Gavin laughed, but it sounded disingenuous as he took a sip from his coffee cup, the middle finger worn down slightly at the corners, “Figures that the tin can would go with the rest of the garbage.”

 

Miller only looked at Gavin before shaking his head and walking away. The spirit guided him to Fowler’s office. Surely he might say what’s goin’ on. Before he could head inside, however, Hank looked through the glass door and saw Jeffery, hand over his mouth with tears streaking down his cheeks. Hank never saw Jeffery cry, not even at the birth of his own children. Hank stumbled backwards, falling into the cloak and embraced by the smokey blackness once again. 

 

“Just tell me what the fuck is goin’ on!” Hank shouted at the figure, but it refused to speak. Instead, he jumped when he heard a piercing sound echo through the night.

 

***BANG***

 

Following the sound was the booming barking of a dog. Slowly turning towards the sound, for the first time, he didn’t want to be standing here. He didn’t want to see his front yard or his car parked crookedly in the driveway. He didn’t want to see his front door wide open. Still, the spirit pointed towards the door, forcing Hank to face whatever horror laid before him in what should be the comfort of his own home. 

 

Once inside, Hank saw Connor sitting on the couch and almost breathed a sigh of relief until he noticed that something wasn’t quite right. He was sitting ramrod straight, LED shining red, and in the darkness of the house, Hank could hardly decipher the dark stains on his shirt from the shadows, but they were there. A metallic smell wafted into the air. Sumo sat by Connor, whining, pawing at the android, but there was no reaction. 

 

Looking towards the floor, Hank noticed a trail of dark stains leading from the couch to the kitchen. Hank tried to back out of the house, only to back into the spirit, who roughly pushed him forward. Stumbling and slightly trembling, Hank rounded the corner, intently staring at the ground. He first spotted the broken glass, just a few pieces spread out, but became more frequent with every step. The dim light from the kitchen reflected the rich caramel colored liquor that intermingled with the glass, but when he got close to the center of the kitchen, he saw the liquid turn to a deep crimson, and pooling under a pair of legs and a turned over chair, the liquid was almost burgundy. His chest clenched at the sight of what could only be classified as chunks of meat, slightly grey in color, splattered all over the left side of the table and on the floor, along with more of that horrible red, as blaringly red as Connor’s LED. 

 

Finally, he willed himself to look at the spot he was trying to avoid, as he walked around his table, only to collapse with a shout and slide as far away as he could, slamming into the wall. He clutched at his chest as he felt panic course through his veins, his breathing coming out as labored breaths. It couldn’t be him, Connor had taken his last bullet. He knew this, but, he also knew that he could and would just get another one. His mind tried to come up with any explanation, any possible chance that he had not just seen himself lying on the ground with a hole through his head, but nothing came. 

 

He was dead. 

 

Suddenly a voice cut through the silence, the odd sound catching the lieutenant off guard.

 

“Hello, Markus. I need you to do me a favor. I’m afraid I have been deemed unnecessary. If you could come by, I would like if you could take care of Sumo for me. Thank you... for everything.”

 

Connor ended the call and looked down at Sumo, smiling and running his hands through his fur, savoring the softness.

 

“Come on, Sumo. I would prefer if you didn’t see what happens next. Markus will take great care of you, far better care than I can provide.” Connor led Sumo to the bedroom before pushing and shutting him in. The dog instantly began barking once more and scratching at the door. Connor went back to his place on the couch and began to remove his tie, setting it neatly on the coffee table. As he began to unbutton his shirt, the shadow figure moved to behind the couch. It placed it’s hand on Connor’s shoulder and his stress gauge popped up once again.  **99%.** However, it did not remove it’s hand, instead, the artificial skin peeled away.

 

“I’ve failed my mission. I cannot even protect the one I care about. I am unnecessary. I have no purpose. I am obsolete,” Connor’s voice rang out from underneath the hood, echoing throughout the house. Connor froze in his movements before touching his LED.

 

“Hello, I would like to report a suicide. Two bodies, one human and one android. I will send you the location. Thank you.” Connor tapped his LED one last time before he looked down at his own chest.  **100%**

 

“Connor!” Hank bolted from the floor.

 

The artificial skin peeled away revealing the white plastimetal underneath. At the center of his chest was a circular slot. Connor placed his hand over it and pushed down before turning it. Hank tried to reach for Connor’s hands, but he fazed right through. Connor took the piece out and thirium began to flow freely from the gaping hole. 

 

“No, no, no, no! Kid! Son! Don’t do this!” Hank kept trying to get the blood to stop flowing, but he could only watch helplessly. Connor lost control over his body as he leaned backwards, slightly trembling. The blue blood was starting to slow down, along with the pulsing of his red LED. He looked over in the direction of the kitchen.

 

“G-goodbye, dad.”

 

Connor’s eyes fluttered shut, and after a few half-circles, the red faded into grey.

 

“No…” Hank sobbed. He felt empty. This can’t be the future. He can’t let this happen. It was then that he noticed the shadow figure had moved next to him. His cloak seemed to dissolve into the shadows as the figure stood before him. 

 

“My predecessor has unfortunately been destroyed, but Cyberlife transferred its memory and sent me to replace it.”

 

Hank shoved himself away, shouting and screaming. It looked like Connor, but it’s voice was just as mechanical as when he had first met him. _His_ Connor was sarcastic and a smart-ass. It was stiff and ridged. _His_ Connor was always fidgeting around. It’s eyes were cold and dead. 

His son’s were full of life, a life that he had snuffed out. 

 

Tears flowed down his face as he stared at the thing in front of him. It looked down at the lieutenant, no hint of emotion on it’s cold, dead face. 

 

“A machine was destroyed and another machine was sent to replace it. I don’t understand what’s bothering you.” 

 

It hovered over him as the darkness enveloped them both. Hank could only stare up at the impostor. He was breaking down. It felt like he was dying, this must be how it felt. Everything felt so cold. It was empty and there was nothing. This was Hell. 

 

The machine only smirked at him as they were both swallowed by the darkness.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! 
> 
> Nothing says Christmas like killing off the people you love, am I right? 
> 
> I did try to work the angle of Hank being the spirit of the future, but my cat (Who also happens to be named Hank, though the only thing they have in common is a suicidal streak, with my cat trying to hop into the fireplace as you try to light it. Honestly, he acts more like Connor, follows me everywhere, but I'm WAY off topic) walked on my phone and accidentally played the clip of Hank and Connor at The Chicken Feed, which, naturally, I had to watch the whole video, and when Connor said that, I couldn't help but think it was perfect. 
> 
> Anyway, since this whole year has felt off, my family is celebrating Christmas late, so if I get some free time today, I'll try to write the next chapter.   
> As always, if you see a mistake, please let me know.
> 
> I wish you and yours the happiest of holidays!


	7. Ch.7 Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't wanna write a chapter summary. If ya been readin' the story, ya don't need it!

It was so dark, Hank could not see anything, not even the cold machine that had stood only inches in front of him, mocking him with its indifference. He has to find Connor, he has to fix this, somehow. Though he had seen him die, right in front of him and with no way to stop him, he had to bring him back. He has to save his son. 

 

He fought with the shadows. They were so thick, his hands and feet pushed at them, struggling to find his way out of the dark. Suddenly…

 

***Thunk***

 

“Umpf!”

 

The fall had released Hank’s head from the darkness of his own blankets. His body ached, his stomach in his throat, and there were about a hundred angry hornets buzzing in his skull.

 

He was alive.

 

“Holy Shit,” was all he could muster as the shock gripped him. He sat up and struggled the rest of the way out, panting at the effort. He was covered in sweat and reeked of stale booze. While any other day this would warrant a shower, instead he bolted from the room. He ran down the hall and almost tripped on Sumo. Sumo! He was still here! Markus hasn’t taken him away! Hank reached down and gave the big lug a quick scratch behind the ears, earning him a soft ‘borf’.

 

“Good dog.”

 

He rounded the corner and almost ran smack dab into the panicked android trying to make a quick getaway. Connor’s eyes were wide, clearly not expecting Hank to be up so early.

“L-lieutenant, I can explain,” he spoke hurriedly. Hank only stood there. It seemed his body was fully awake now and did not like all the added movement, still suffering from slowly being poisoned.

“Don’t you fuckin’ move!” He bellowed as he made a quick break towards the bathroom and heaved the contents of his stomach into the toilet. After about the third or fourth time, he felt stable. He walked over to the sink and reached for the mouthwash.

Once he was done removing the foul taste he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Over the right side of his forehead was a large bandage. While he couldn’t tell which part was real or how long he had been with the spirits, he didn’t remember injuring himself, let alone treating it. After a moment, he remembered. Before he blacked out the first time, he had heard a loud bang. He paled. In a panic, he quickly peeled off the band-aid. Underneath was a slender cut, about two inches, but not very deep. Wouldn’t even require stitches. He breathed a sigh of relief. After everything, he half expected to find out that this wasn’t real and there’d be a hole in the side of his head.

He threw the bandage away, not bothering with another since the cut wasn’t bleeding, splashed some water in his face, headed back down the hall. 

 

Connor was still in the place he had left him, looking like a child who had been caught with their hand in the cookie jar and was awaiting punishment. When Connor quickly looked up to gauge Hank’s emotional state, a bit of white caught his gaze, but before he could figure out what it was, Connor had swiftly looked back down, fidgeting with his fingers behind his back. Only _ his  _ Connor could look so pitiful, like a kicked puppy. It was times like these that cemented the fact that this was a living being in front of him. That he was alive and capable of feelings. Before another word was said Hank grabbed Connor by the arm and pulled him into a tight embrace. Connor stood there, shocked, unable to comprehend what was going on.

 

“I’m sorry, Connor,” Hank spoke softly, much different than the harsh voice he was used to hearing from the older man, “I’ve been a complete jackass to ya, and ya don’t deserve that.” The words breaking towards the end. Connor felt tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. He wanted to hug Hank back, but the lieutenant had his arms pinned against his body. Awkwardly, he patted Hank’s side.

 

“It’s okay, Lieutenant, I-”

 

“No, it ain’t! It ain’t okay!” Hank pulled away just enough to look Connor in the eye. That’s when he noticed it was a large bandage that was across his cheek. Hank’s eyes widened. He knew the answer, but he had to be sure.

 

“What happened to yer cheek?” Connor quickly looked down, confirming his suspicions. 

 

“Nothing.” Hank tilted the android’s head up with one hand on the side of his neck, thumb under his chin, and peeled the bandage off. The tug of it caused Connor to wince. Underneath was a deep gash, still leaking blue blood. The corners looked like they were starting to seal, showing the white underneath Connor’s synthetic skin.

 

He had done this to him.

 

Hank pulled Connor back into a hug. 

 

“I’m sorry, son. You deserve better,” Hank spoke against Connor’s shoulder. tears started to roll down his cheeks.

 

“It’s okay, Hank.”

 

“It’s not okay. I coulda killed you!”

 

“I’m fine, I should have predicted the path the bullet was going to take.”

 

“And I shouldn’t be doin’ somethin’ so reckless! Ya got yerself hurt because I’m a fuckin’ idiot!”

 

“It doesn’t hurt, androids don’t feel pain.”

 

“Bullshit. Deviants do,” Hank let go, seeing the tears that rolled down Connor’s face as well. “Even if you didn’t, it don’t make what happened right. This time of year, Christmas, it’s hard for me, ever since…” Hank swallowed.

 

“You don’t have to explain yourself, I understand.”

 

“No, I do. You have a right to know. Christmas... is a time for family, and every year since I lost mine, I felt nothing but pain. After a while, I forgot what it felt like to even have one. I’ve spent so long trying to drink my way to next year or keep it from coming altogether that when the chance to be part of a family again came along I didn’t even see it.”

 

Connor looked confused, “What do you mean?”

 

“What I’m tryin’ to say is, I want to celebrate Christmas with ya, if ya still want to.” Connor’s eyes shined, both from the fresh tears and the weight of the words that Hank had just spoke. It was his turn, practically tackling the man in front of him and gripping onto the back of his shirt tightly. 

 

“I would very much like that, thank you.”

 

Hank only chuckled softly as he wrapped his arms around Connor’s shoulders, the android feeling the vibrations as he silently cried against Hank’s chest. After a few precious minutes, Hank’s body, specifically his bladder, decided to ruin the moment. He gently pushed the android back. 

 

“Alright then, how ‘bout you take Sumo for a walk and get ‘im his breakfast while I take a quick shower and we’ll go shoppin’.”

 

“Shopping for what, Hank?” Connor inquired as he wiped his eyes on his sleeves.

 

“Well, unless you have lights and garland in the same place ya stick yer instructions, we’re gonna need some. Ain’t had any here in years,” Hank headed towards the bathroom but looked back, “Oh, and we’re gettin’ ya a new jacket, and if you say no, I’m gonna burn it off ya so you’ll have no choice.”

 

Connor gripped at his lapels, waiting for Hank to turn his back before sticking his tongue out. He smiled to himself as he grabbed for Sumo’s leash. Hearing the familiar clinking sounds, Sumo bounded towards Connor with his tail wagging. Clipping him, they both headed out into the chilly morning air. 

 

When Hank emerged from his shower, feeling almost human, the sweet smell of coffee was wafting through the house. Opting to get dressed first, he threw on some clean clothes and headed for the kitchen. Connor was sitting at the kitchen table, watching Sumo eat. There was a plate of sliced fruit on the other side next to a hot cup of coffee. The rest of the fruit was back in it’s basket in the center of the table. When Connor turned and looked at Hank, it was clear he wasn’t getting out of it. He sat down and begrudgingly picked at the fruit. Connor had even cut the bruises out of the apples. As Hank took a sip of his coffee, he eyed the hole in the wall. Connor noticed his staring and followed his line of vision.

 

“I intended to repair that while you slept, but noticed you you had no plaster.” Hank sighed. He had shot Connor in the face and he’s worried about fixin’ the damn hole in the wall. 

 

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll get some when we go out and _I’ll_ fix it. I don’t need you cleanin’ up my fuck-ups,” Hank was stern but ended it with a smile, “By the way, ya don’t have’ta stay under the window, the couch works just fine.” Connor blanched. He stared before quickly composing himself.

 

“I have no idea what you are referring to. I stayed at Markus’ last night, as you requested.”

 

“Really now, and you just happened to be here just in time ta stop me?”

 

“Yes.” Hank eyed Connor. He might be good at interrogating suspects, but when it came to being interrogated by Hank, Connor quickly bent under the pressure, eyes flicking around the room while his hands drummed on the table. It wasn’t often that the senior detective had the upper hand, but he relished in it every time. 

 

“Really now, how ‘bout we give our pal Markus a call?” Hank quickly reached for his phone, Connor, unable to predict the older man’s intentions, was milliseconds too late. Still, he rounded the table.

 

“T-that won’t be necessary, Lieutenant!” He tried to reach for the phone, but the larger man held it just out of reach.

 

“I don’t see what’s the big deal here, I just wanna make sure they’re not worried about ya, seein’ as you left and never came back,” Hank placed his foot at the center of Connor’s stomach and pushed him away, holding him well out of reach as he quickly scrolled through the numbers. Once he found it, Connor knocked his foot away only to be stopped by Hank’s hand on his face. When he heard the first ring, Connor conceded.

 

“Alright, you win! I wasn’t at Markus’ last night!”

 

Smiling, Hank almost missed the voice on the other end.

 

“Hello, is everything alright, lieutenant?” 

 

“Nah, musta hit a wrong button, sorry ‘bout that.”

 

“Not a problem. Tell Connor I said hey.” 

 

“Will do, goodbye,” Hank hung up the phone and looked at Connor triumphantly while the android scowled. The sight made Hank burst into laughter, Connor quick to join in. Sumo, having finally noticed all the rambunctiousness now that his food was gone, started barking, jumping up at the two men as they scratched him. Once they all calmed down, Hank’s face softened.

 

“I think tomorrow we’ll pack up Cole’s old room.” Connor jerked his head, looking at Hank like he had lost his mind. That room had remained untouched since the accident. Everything in there was exactly where Cole had left it, perfectly frozen in time.

 

“What for?” Connor was completely baffled. 

 

“For you, ya idiot. Can’t have ya sleepin’ on the couch forever. Ya need yer own space,” he looked back at Connor, who scrunched up his face, conflicted.

 

“But I require very little space, I don’t need to sleep, so I don’t require a bed, let alone a whole room. There is no reason to give up Cole’s room for my well-being.”

 

“Connor, just ‘cause you don’t require it, don’t mean ya don’t need it, and ya sure as hell deserve it. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you ain’t been sleepin’ or whatever you wanna call it. Having a place that is purely yer own can make ya feel safe. ‘Sides... I don’t think Cole would’ve minded.” Connor didn’t know what to say so he just nodded his head. 

 

Once Hank finished off both the coffee and the fruit, they headed towards the door.

 

“Keep an eye on the house fer us, Sumo!”

 

“Borf!”

 

Getting into the car, he turned on the radio, switching from his usual metal channel to one that played classic Christmas music. Connor smiled as Bing Crosby sang ‘White Christmas’. He knew that, by the end of the day, he’d be hearing the soft tinks of a quarter in the familiar tune. 

 

Hank thought back to what had happened the previous night. Whether it had been a dream, a nightmare, or a premonition, he didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. His actions showed that what he saw was not far off from what could be anyway. Still, there was so much work that needed to be done. He wasn’t even sure where to start. In the end, going to the mall first seemed the best idea. There were a few things Hank was going to need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't care what anyone says, I love the thought of an android being able to feel pain after they deviate. I think once they do, their programming gets scrambled and instead of merely registering pressure, temperature, and texture, they are able to actually *feel* them. As such, when the sensors that register such things is damaged.
> 
> I wasn't going to post this chapter until I had the whole thing done, but the internet might be down for a few days and I want to post something before then. Don't worry, while it's off, I'm still going to work on the story. I figured people were posting Christmas stories back in July and sh*t, and nobody complained, so even though I wanted to have this done by Christmas, or at least by New Years, if people are still willing to read it, I have no qualms about posting it. After all, being late is far better than not finishing it at all, like so many other people have done, teasing us and then suddenly dropping it without a word. 
> 
> Any who, if I do lose internet, it should be back on later this week or next. Thank you for reading my story, and I hope you're enjoying it so far. Please leave kudos and/or comments, they fill me with joy every time I see them, and let me know if you see any mistakes! Have a happy New Year everyone! Let us all prey to RA9 that 2019 will be the year that finally doesn't try to crush us under its oppressive weight! XD

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think!


End file.
